The night out.... p2

[ey****]

"I love the excited nervousness you have", I laughed as you sat awkwardly in the restaurant.

You giggled, you were looking forward to a nice night but knew there'd be at least one surprise.

Not helped you could feel the ooze between your toes of my earlier release.

You'd be looking at the menu extensively. I smiled. 

You looked up; "Are you choosing for me?"

Your acknowledgement pleased me, because of this I decided to reward you.
"How about, if I pick your main and your drink, you can choose your dessert?"

"Really?", you beamed.
"Yes," I smiled.

When the waitress came over I placed my order, a personal favourite.
She turned to take your order and you looked awkwardly, you turned to me and asked for my opinion. A good move.

"I think the seafood chowder looks nice"

You agreed and ordered.

"For the drinks?" asked the waitress.  "I'd like a pint of lager, and can I just get a water for the lady?"

As she walked off you turned to me and thanked me for the choice, "I was worried you'd get me salad or something"

I replied, "Ordering a salad on your behalf would look like I'm a bit of a dick.  Plus... the salad wouldn't work."

Wouldn't work. What even did that mean?

When the food came down I took myself to the bathroom, I told you not to start without me.

I think you knew.

You looked a little horrified, but not overly surprised, when I emptied a bottle of my *** straight discreetly into your meal.

"It's warm, at least"

Every bite of the meal became a reminder of your devotion to me and my authority over you.

Still. There was dessert to look forward to.

As the dessert menus came down, and we were given a few minutes.  You checked with me, "Can I really order anything?"
"Really, of course... I promise not to *** on it either"
You looked, with caution on my words.
"Or spit on it, or sneeze on it, or get you to..."
"You've got something in mind though"
I smiled.
"Do you have a suggestion that would work with whatever you have in mind?"
"I genuinely want you to pick a favourite."

"Are you ready to order?"
I ordered and you looked, still a bit concerned.  I prompt you, "Honestly, get whatever you want"

You order, as I suspected, a black forest gateaux.

When the desserts are delivered, I start to eat. You sit and look.

I smile, "Well eat then"

You do, nervously, but I can see you are enjoying it.

I let you eat and enjoy most of it before stopping you.
"You can save the rest for later"

You stop, confused.

"You'll need to carry what's left home"
"How would you like me to do that"
"Improvise..."
"May I take my shoes off..."
"Only the clean one"

You slip the shoe off and scoop some of the gateaux in - you'd hope to fit more.

You place your toes back in with a squelch, the gateaux runs up the side of the shoes.

You grab a napkin to get some of the excess.

"I don't want to see any left in restaurant"

There's little other choice as you discreetly try to scoop what is left into your underwear.  You do well.

Your then sat there as I finish, sitting around a mess of gatueax with now both feet in assorted gunk.

As I'm finishing my dessert I joke that wearing gloves could have been an extra option.

As the bill comes down and I pay, you ask if I'm going to call a cab.

"I thought we'd walk home," I grin, "But first I want to pop in McDonalds..."

to be continued.